


Welcome to Your Kitchen

by Schuyler



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schuyler/pseuds/Schuyler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack misses Bitty, so Jack does something drastic. Expensively so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to Your Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tatalina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tatalina/gifts).



“Bitty,” he said, smiling as Skype connected. 

Eric reached out and touched his boyfriend’s dumb face on the screen. It had been a week since he’d seen Jack’s face and that was far too long. “Jack. How’s Montreal?” 

“Nice.” Jack fell silent and they just stared at each other. In three years of dating, they’d never gone more than a couple of days without seeing each other, even if it was just on Skype, but Jack had forgotten his laptop charger on the road trip west and then Bitty’d had to go to southern Mississippi because his aunt had had a stroke. 

Jack licked his lips and Bitty’s thoughts suddenly went to a slightly naughtier place. Jack could still do that to him. “How was the road trip? I saw you picked up a couple of assists in San Jose.” 

Jack’s cheeks went a little pink. “I did.” Jack shifted uncomfortably and then bit his lip. “Bits, I did something kind of impulsive.” 

“Like a tattoo? Is it a tattoo of my face? Is it on your butt?” 

Jack laughed and that sound was still too rare for Bitty’s liking. “No, I did not get a tattoo. I bought an apartment.”

“Jaaaack!” he said, grinning. “You did? Tell me everything!” 

Jack described where the apartment was, which wasn’t super helpful because Bitty still couldn’t get around Montreal, though he was pretty good at the suburb where the Zimmermanns lived. Jack had been staying with his parents since he’d signed with the new Nordiques in the off-season. Bitty thought it was exactly what he needed: a place where he could blaze his own trail, and not be the legacy or the new kid, but someone who could pull a team together and wasn’t above or below anyone else. He’d pushed Jack to take it. 

But they’d had a life together in Boston. An apartment with a kitchen that had enough natural light for Bitty to vlog while he baked. A standing brunch date with Shits and Lardo. They’d been in that apartment when Jack had found out that he was getting the Calder Trophy. They’d been there when Bitty got his cookbook deal. 

And it had felt like too much for them both to go. For Bitty to leave the country with his mostly closeted boyfriend to a country where he couldn’t work and didn’t speak one of the major languages. It was so much commitment and Bitty was barely 22 and Jack pushed him to take the time to figure out what he wanted and wouldn’t disclose what he himself wanted. Or, as his mom had said when he came back home to Georgia, “You both panicked.” 

“Can I see it?” Bitty asked. “Can you give me the grand tour when you move in?”

“I was thinking maybe you could see it in person?” Jack asked. “I won’t move in for a couple of weeks probably, and it will have been a month then.” That was the agreement, to keep them both from giving up their lives to chase each other around. They’d see each other once a month. Bitty had gone to see Jack play the Thrashers in Atlanta the week before Aunt Leanne’s stroke. 

“Yes!” Bitty said, too quick. “Please.” He paused and then dragged his thumb back and forth over the side of his keyboard. “I miss you.”

“God, I miss you too, Eric.” 

 * 

Eric landed in Montreal while Jack was in practice and took a cab to the new place. Jack had said he should get home before Bitty, but the doormen had instructions to let him up if Jack wasn’t there. The building was beautiful, new and swanky. It looked like the sort of place young hockey royalty would live, close to bars and nightlife and other things Jack avoided if possible. The doormen called Jack, and then pointed Bitty toward the correct elevator. “Mr. Zimmermann is on the 18th floor.” 

The building only had 19 floors, Eric realized, and when he got out on 18, there were only two doors. One shut and one, on the other end of the hall, with Jack Zimmermann standing in the doorway, grinning. 

Eric didn’t have any shame around Jack, which was great, because he dropped his bag and lifted up so that Jack could properly kiss him. “Babe,” Jack said, his voice soft and close and real. Not through the telephone or anything. “Babe, I missed you. Thank you for coming.” 

“Thank you for putting me in business class,” Eric said, pulling back to rub his nose against Jack’s. Jack laughed and backed up to let Eric in. “Give me the grand tour!” 

Jack took Eric’s hand and awkwardly waved his hand at the room. “Well, this is the living room.” It was huge and open, with windows that showed the mount and a fireplace. “I haven’t bought a lot of furniture yet.” They went down a side hall and Jack pointed out the two spare rooms and the bath, and then took him into the master bedroom. 

“Oh, honey.” 

“I said I hadn’t bought furniture! I was sleeping on a futon until Tuesday.” There was a bed in the master bedroom, and nothing else. Jack was living out of his suitcases. 

“But you bought a bed, I see,” Eric said, his voice dropping an octave. 

“Well, you were coming.” Eric turned with a smirk and let Jack kiss it off of him. Eric pulled his hand, trying to urge his hotass boyfriend to the bed, but Jack stood firm. “Not done with the tour yet.” 

“You’re not good at this,” he said, letting Jack lead him back to the living room. “You’re supposed to end in the bedroom.” 

Jack had a knowing smile on his face when he steered Eric through the archway at the end of the living room and into the kitchen. 

“Oh my heavens,” Eric said, dropping Jack’s hand and going to touch the counters. The kitchen was easily the size of the living room. It had marble countertops, an induction stove, and the biggest sink Eric had ever seen. It had enormous double ovens. It had half a wall of windows, with a little hutch set beneath for a computer and shelves for cookbooks. It had a pantry and task lighting and the “Welcome to My Kitchen” tile that Chowder had given Eric as a housewarming present hung over the center window. “Jack,” he said. 

“I missed you,” he said. He was fully pink now. “I didn’t see your face for a week and I missed you so much that I couldn’t think about anything else. So I bought an apartment.” 

The gears started to turn in Eric’s head. “Marble countertops, nice and cold if someone wanted to roll out dough. Two ovens, big enough for at least six dozen cookies.” He drew close to Jack and watched the flush spread to the tips of his ears. “Natural light over the desk for vlogging.” 

“Please move back in with me. I can’t do this without you. I can barely do anything without you.” Jack hooked his hands around Eric’s waist and Eric cupped Jack’s face between his palms. “I didn’t know how to ask before and I don’t know if I’m fucking it up now. But you always tell me to ask for what I want.” He pulled Eric closer. “Please.” 

Eric rested his head against Jack’s chest and breathed for a minute. “I miss you too. All the time. I think I forgot how to live without hearing you working out in the next room or there to eat my food. And you did all this for me.”

“No one else.” 

“I’ll stay,” he said, but he stopped Jack before the inevitable kiss. “I’ll stay, but I want you to know that it’s not because you bought me an apartment. I’d stay if you wanted me to live in your bedroom back at home. I’m staying because I love you.” 

Jack kissed him, a lingering tangling of tongues, then murmured, “Almost as much as you love this kitchen?” 

Bitty smirked. “Almost as much. So close.” Jack was laughing when Eric kissed him again.


End file.
